


Let Me Take You Out

by moonrise31



Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [22]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Side Samo, jline actually if you squint, ot9 mentions of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 15:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21322741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrise31/pseuds/moonrise31
Summary: In which Tzuyu tries to run to whatever she might be looking for, and doesn’t think of stopping until she crashes into Im Nayeon.(Alternatively, in which Tzuyu pays the bills by working at a Japanese restaurant in the middle of Seoul, and has no idea what to do when she delivers an order to someone who answers the door right after stepping out of the shower.)
Relationships: Chou Tzuyu/Im Nayeon
Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/935700
Comments: 12
Kudos: 292





	Let Me Take You Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xylomylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylomylo/gifts).

> Happy birthday, Kelly!! Thank you for being you, even if that means being a hipster. Enjoy your cake haha <3

At first, it’s the end to another regular day on the job: the clock hits nine, Momo finishes the last batch of takeout orders, and Sana bags them, the plastic rustling as she fixes the appropriate receipt to each one. 

“Do these first. They’re in the same neighborhood,” Sana tells Tzuyu when she comes to the counter, separating a few bags from the rest. “And then these,” she points at the remaining ones, “are nearer to the university, so you can just go home after you’re done.”

Tzuyu nods. “Thanks, unnie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The bell above the door rings as she exits the restaurant. Her bike is locked a meter or so away, and she carefully loads the bags into the crate strapped behind her seat. At some point, Sana or Momo had numbered the receipts, so she knows exactly which address to type into her phone first. 

The deliveries go by quickly enough: a frazzled but smiling mother with three screaming kids behind her, a man still in his oil-stained uniform who tips her extra because he thinks it’s too late for a student to still be out working. There’s also that one guy with the thick crooked glasses and wandering eyes, but Tzuyu makes sure to frown at him and leave as quickly as possible. 

The street curves turn familiar as she bikes closer to the university. There’s a group of boys so into their game of Mario Kart that no one remembers to answer her knocking for almost an entire minute. At the next stop, she learns where Elkie from her statistics class lives, and agrees to grab coffee together after their lecture tomorrow. 

The last address is closest to her own dormitory, but is also on the edge of campus that she rarely visits. She vaguely remembers her roommate, Chaeyoung, mentioning that a lot of university faculty and staff live in this apartment building. But she doesn’t really think much of it when she stops in front of the door, the last delivery bag knocking gently against her leg as she raises her free hand to ring the bell.

“Coming,” Tzuyu hears someone call from inside the apartment. Then the lock clicks, and the door swings open. 

The woman standing in front of her looks about two steps away from putting on a facemask -- her hair is wrapped in a green towel, but Tzuyu can see some brown strands curling past the edges, and her cheeks are still pink from an undoubtedly warm shower. 

Tzuyu looks down at the receipt stapled to the bag, the hangul still refusing to read as quickly as she wants it to. But the sounds at least are more natural by now, and eventually she gets her tongue to twist in just the right ways. “Im Nayeon?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Im Nayeon reaches out and takes the bag, but her eyes stay glued to Tzuyu’s face.

A few seconds pass. Im Nayeon has already paid prior to delivery, but she still hasn’t closed the door, or even opened the bag to check her order. Tzuyu clears her throat. “Is there anything else that you need?” 

“Oh.” Im Nayeon shakes her head, and the beginnings of a smile push at her lips. It’s more sly than the soft glow in her cheeks would imply, Tzuyu realizes, because then Nayeon says, “Sorry, I was just wondering where you’ve been all my life.”

Tzuyu’s brain slowly grinds to a stop. 

Im Nayeon smiles back, with her green towel and bright eyes and front teeth poking out from between her lips.

“Probably in Taiwan,” is the first coherent answer Tzuyu can put together. Im Nayeon’s face morphs into an almost comical mix of confusion and surprise: brows furrowing, mental cogs creaking as she takes a turn processing. 

Tzuyu reflects that she probably should have said literally any other answer, but it’s too late now. “Goodbye,” she tells Im Nayeon. 

She turns away and retraces her steps down the hall. The door doesn’t click shut until after she turns the corner, and Tzuyu promptly forgets about the encounter in favor of Chaeyoung’s text promising leftover pizza if she gets home in the next fifteen minutes.

-

“Were you hitting on the delivery girl again, unnie?”

Nayeon sets the plastic bag down on the counter before she spins around, hands placed on her hips for the appropriate level of indignation required. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

Mina shakes her head, but her lip twitches enough for Nayeon to know that she’s teasing. “What about the girl from the chicken feet place last week?”

Nayeon hums, glancing up at the ceiling as if it could jog her memory. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The delivery app said her name was Jihyo.” When Nayeon’s expression doesn’t dawn into one of understanding, Mina sighs. “Jihyo? The one with the cute smile and the big --”

Nayeon holds up a hand. “Wow, Myoui. Didn’t take you for a pervert.”

“-- eyes,” Mina finishes. She frowns. “What do you mean, pervert?”

“Well, you know. Big...” Nayeon gestures to her chest area. 

Mina gasps. “Unnie!”

“Alright, not important.” Nayeon waves a hand. “I remember her now.”

“Okay,” says Mina as she walks up to join Nayeon at the counter. “That’s what I meant by ‘again’.”

“Harmless flirting, by definition, can never hurt anyone.” Nayeon retrieves the disposable chopsticks and napkins before reaching further inside the bag for the box of noodles she’d ordered. “You don’t think that she was offended, do you?”

“Who, Jihyo?” Mina plucks the receipt off and glances at the store logo printed at the top. “I doubt it. People usually like it when you flirt with them -- don’t you dare, unnie.” 

Nayeon pouts, but pulls back from where she’d slid forward to position her face as close to Mina’s as possible. “Alright, fine. But the girl just now didn’t even smile. I asked her where she’s been all my life, and she just told me that she’s from Taiwan.” She pauses, chopsticks hovering in midair. “Do you think I offended her?”

The corner of Mina’s mouth quirks up, but she busies herself with folding up the now empty plastic bag. “You probably just startled her. I’m sure she’s used to this kind of behavior from greasy guys, but not from people who look like you do.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Nayeon pries open the top of the box and chews through a mouthful of noodles. Then it hits her. “Hold on. What did you mean by that?”

Mina smiles and straightens. “It’s a compliment, unnie. Don’t think too much about it.” 

“Says the graduate student,” Nayeon grumbles. “I’ll think however much I want. And I think I offended her. Should I call the restaurant and apologize?”

“They’re closed already,” Mina reminds her before stepping out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it, unnie. You’ll probably never see her again, unless you keep ordering from the same restaurant, on the same day, at the same time.”

“Right,” says Nayeon. And because Mina’s back is turned, she doesn’t see the plan forming behind Nayeon’s next slurp of noodles.

-

Tzuyu walks into the restaurant thirty minutes before her shift, as usual, because Momo always makes extra of each order so all the employees -- Tzuyu, Sana, and the other delivery girl, Dahyun -- can have dinner at some point. 

“What’s that?” Sana asks as Tzuyu sits at the kitchen table; it’s a small one, but the restaurant doesn’t have a break room, and they don’t need to seat more than four people at a time, anyway. 

Tzuyu retrieves some bread from the paper bag she’s holding. “Jeongyeon-unnie gave it to me, on the house. Do you want some?”

“The owner of the bakery across the street?” Momo gasps as she rips off a piece of the loaf on her way to the other side of the kitchen. “How could you betray us like this?”

“You don’t have any bread,” says Tzuyu, setting aside a part for when Dahyun comes back from her shift. Momo considers Tzuyu’s argument in the time that it takes for her to return to the table with a warm bowl of rice topped with steaming vegetables, and accepts her defeat with the rest of the loaf that Tzuyu offers her.

Sana giggles, and Tzuyu wouldn’t normally pay her any more mind than Momo usually does. But then Momo glances over. “Is it still Nayeon-unnie?”

Sana hums as she continues swiping on her tablet. “I’ll give her points for persistence. I’ve already rejected three of her orders.”

“She’s going to call the restaurant eventually,” Momo says as she wanders over to read over Sana’s shoulder. “Then she’s going to figure out that _we_ are the restaurant.”

“We could have Tzuyu answer the call,” says Sana. “This is way too much fun for us to tell her now. Even Mina thinks so.”

Momo rolls her eyes, smiling as she retreats further into the kitchen. Tzuyu pauses, and then sets down her bowl and chopsticks for the moment. “What are you unnies talking about?”

“Nothing,” Sana snickers as she swipes through another order. “Finish your food, Tzuyu-yah.”

“Tell me,” Tzuyu insists. She leans across the table and makes a grab for the tablet, but Sana raises it over her head just in time. “Don’t make me come over there, unnie.”

“Your arms are way too long,” Sana complains, standing as she clutches the tablet to her chest. Tzuyu gets up too, coming around the table and reaching for Sana’s shoulder. 

Sana squeaks, turning just enough to dodge Tzuyu’s first attempt. But then Tzuyu brings her other arm around and manages to get a good grip on one corner.

“Momo!” Sana yells. “Help!”

“Don’t break the iPad,” says Momo without turning from the stove. “We already had to replace the screen from the last time you dropped it.”

Tzuyu finally wrests the tablet from Sana. She turns away from the older girl, scrolling back through the canceled orders. They’re all from an Im Nayeon, for one of Momo’s more popular noodle dishes. The special delivery instructions section is where Tzuyu’s hangul comprehension begins to stumble, but she eventually makes out phrases like _can you please send the cute Taiwanese girl so that I can apologize :(_

A new order notification appears as Sana comes up behind her. Tzuyu only has to read the familiar name at the top before tapping “accept”.

“Tzuyu!” Sana plucks the tablet out of the younger girl’s grasp. “Why’d you do that? Now you have to go deliver it.”

Tzuyu shrugs. “She apparently wants me to go, anyway.”

Sana sets the tablet on the table before crossing her arms. “You’re not concerned that Nayeon-unnie might be some kind of creep?” Momo snorts, and Sana whips around. “Don’t laugh over the food! It’s unsanitary.”

“If you unnies are on familiar terms with her, she can’t be that bad,” Tzuyu says as Momo sets a takeout box on the counter for Sana to bag. “I don’t really remember her, though, or why she would want to apologize.”

Sana grins. “Oh, believe me, you’ll remember when you get there. Mina told us all about it.”

Tzuyu blinks. “Mina-unnie was there? I don’t remember ever delivering to her.”

“It’ll be easier for you to go and find out,” Sana says as she hands Tzuyu the bag. “And also much more fun.”

“You can come back for the rest later,” Momo calls. “I won’t be done with the next batch for another half-hour or so.” 

Im Nayeon’s address is close to campus -- Tzuyu vaguely remembers the apartment building as she parks her bike next to it. She tries to put a face to the name of the person who’d apparently answered the last time she’d rung, but tonight, it’s Mina who opens the door.

“Oh, Tzuyu.” Mina smiles. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Mina-unnie?” Tzuyu glances down at the receipt. “Do you live with an Im Nayeon?”

Mina laughs. “Yes, she’s my roommate. But she’s still showering, so she’s going to be very disappointed that she’s missed you.”

“Oh.” Tzuyu now remembers something of a green towel and a twinkling smile, but the face gets lost among the dozens of others she’s greeted every other night for the past week. “Well, here’s her order. And tell her that it’s okay, whatever she thinks she needs to apologize for.”

Mina accepts the bag. “I’ll be sure to pass it on. Momo-unnie and Sana-unnie are taking me out tomorrow, so I’ll see you at the restaurant then?”

Tzuyu nods, returning Mina’s wave before the older girl quietly shuts the door. 

There’s still some time before Tzuyu needs to go back, so once she exits the building, she stands by her bike and unlocks her phone. Finding an Im Nayeon who’s mutual friends with all three of Momo, Sana, and Mina isn’t difficult. And when Tzuyu pulls up the profile, she suddenly remembers why Nayeon knows that she’s from Taiwan.

Her stomach twists in a warm way, the residual embarrassment at her stupid answer to such an obvious flirtation bubbling uncomfortably in her gut. But she also can’t get out of her head the fact that even after today, she will always be much more aware of the Nayeon with a mess of damp hair and freshly scrubbed cheeks, instead of the one on her phone screen showing off pretty red lips and glitter dusted on her eyelids. 

-

Nayeon isn’t even looking where she’s going when she bumps into the delivery girl for the second time. 

She’s in the middle of rushing out to lunch. Earlier that morning, the department director had thrown her an extra mound of paperwork that needed to be processed “at earliest convenience,” which is definitely the code that bosses use to tell employees they now only have half of their lunch hour left to eat before they are expected back at their desks.

The flurry of scanning and typing that followed had left Nayeon with little time to catch up on her messages, which included one of her students asking to cancel their upcoming afternoon lesson, and another looking to schedule an extra before the upcoming Friday. There was also a text from Sana asking if she wanted to come by the restaurant -- a request that had become increasingly frequent in the last week or two for some unknown reason, so Nayeon finally types a quick “sure” before running straight into the person in front of her.

Nayeon’s first instinct is to yell as she stumbles back, barely keeping a grip on her phone. But she manages to recover enough to dip into a hasty bow right after. “I’m so sorry -- I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

“That’s alright,” the other person starts to say. Her voice is nice, is all Nayeon is able to think before she looks up and makes eye contact.

The delivery girl from two weeks ago freezes. “Im Nayeon.”

Nayeon lets out a nervous chuckle. She straightens slowly. “So you remember me.” 

The girl nods. “Not until after I came to deliver your order again last week, but Mina-unnie answered the door then.”

Nayeon frowns. She thinks back to the night she’d gotten fed up with the glitchy restaurant website and half-heartedly submitted her last attempt at an order before going to take a shower. She’d stepped out twenty minutes later, only to be greeted by a warm bag of takeout noodles and a -- now come to think of it -- subtly but suspiciously smug-looking roommate. “You know Mina? She never told me that.” 

“She knows Sana-unnie and Momo-unnie,” the delivery girl says. “They own the restaurant I work at.”

A flood of words crashes through Nayeon’s brain at the revelation -- not all of them kid-friendly, but each tailored specifically for Sana and her unnecessarily cheeky invitations. “I see,” says Nayeon, hoping that her eye isn’t twitching like it does whenever she’s “secretly raging on the inside,” according to Momo. “I didn’t know that, either.”

“Oh, maybe Mina-unnie didn’t tell you this, then.” The delivery girl’s guarded expression loses an edge or two as she looks down at her shoes. And suddenly, Nayeon registers the hesitance before every syllable the girl has uttered, sees the stiffness in joints that have not quite found their home away from home. “I’d like to tell you that there’s nothing to apologize for, Nayeon-ssi. I wasn’t mad, or anything. I just said the first thing that came to my mind.”

_Where have you been all my life?_

_Probably in Taiwan._

Nayeon clears her throat, wishing that it would kick out the flutter of protectiveness taking root in her chest. “No, really, I’m sorry for catching you by surprise like that. You probably get it a lot, and I shouldn’t have added to that.” She glances at her phone, trying to mentally calculate how many minutes she has left before she has to be back in the office. “Can I buy you coffee later to make up for it? You don’t have to stay and chat after, if you don’t want to. Or I can even just get you a gift card. I’ll give it to Sana or Momo or Mina so you won’t even have to see me --”

“Coffee is okay,” the delivery girl says softly. “Do you know the cafe on campus?”

Nayeon quickly nods. “Are you free at five? I’ll meet you outside the door, if you decide to come.”

“Okay.” The delivery girl gives a brief smile, and the relentless train of thoughts hurtling through Nayeon’s head trips over itself for just a moment. “I’ll see you at five, Nayeon-ssi.”

Nayeon doesn’t learn Chou Tzuyu’s name until after they’re sitting inside the cafe, warm drinks in hand to ward off the incoming autumn chill. And honestly, Nayeon is a little nervous about the upcoming conversation, because she’s not sure how talkative Tzuyu will be with a near-stranger who’s only ever flirted with her, and then waited two weeks just to pop up again and literally run into her.

Nayeon clears her throat. Tzuyu looks up, eyes big and smile cautious. _Your Korean is really good_, Nayeon thinks of saying. But she remembers that Mina gets more self-conscious at comments like those, her flow of words suddenly stilting where they had come so easily before. So Nayeon says, “Alright, tell me the truth: is it as horrible working for Sana and Momo as it is being their friend?”

Tzuyu laughs, and Nayeon tucks the sound of it away in a corner of her memory while she listens to Tzuyu’s reply.

The other girl sits straight, hands in her lap when she’s not taking a sip of her drink. But as she answers Nayeon’s subsequent questions, she starts to lean forward, gesturing when she feels particularly strongly about something -- the rashness of some car drivers toward bicyclists, or the cute puppy cafe she passes every day on her way to work -- and Nayeon almost forgets to continue being a part of the conversation.

Because Tzuyu is quiet, but not terse; there’s a soothing lull to her voice that settles over the grating hum of the coffee machines. Nayeon lets Tzuyu’s measured, gentle syllables wash over her as the younger girl reveals that she’s in her second year of university, studying political science because she wants to work in foreign relations when she graduates. Tzuyu is a year older than most of her classmates due to the gap year she’d taken after her first year of university in Taiwan, but her cheek dimples when she says that she doesn’t find it that weird -- her roommate is the same age, and she hangs out more with Sana and Momo and Mina and Dahyun, anyway.

“Did you do anything fun during your gap year?” Nayeon asks absentmindedly as she swallows what remains of her drink; it feels like they’d sat down only five minutes ago, but the last orange rays of sun are already filtering through the window and dancing off the varnish of the tabletop between them.

Tzuyu stills for just a second. But Nayeon catches how her fingers tap against the side of the cardboard cup before she says, “I had to deal with some family things. That’s all.”

“It must be really weird, now that I think about it,” Nayeon says suddenly. “Our meeting, I mean. Mina told me that asking for you in the delivery instructions could be kind of creepy, which looking back, I now agree with. And then I actually find you on campus only a week later -- I promise I’m not stalking you or anything.”

The corner of Tzuyu’s lips quirks like Mina’s does when she’s entertained, but trying to keep her cool and mysterious demeanor. “What are you doing on campus, then? Are you also a graduate student?”

Nayeon shakes her head. “I work in the music department office. I’m the person who makes sure all your forms are in order, and helps you if you’re looking for important administration people whose existences don’t matter until you’re ready to graduate.” She stops, and then adds, “I also occasionally teach vocal lessons to anyone who wants to impress their friends at karaoke.” 

Tzuyu tilts her head. “So you can sing?”

“Anyone can sing,” Nayeon says. “You were literally born with the instrument, and people who say you sound bad just don’t have taste.”

Tzuyu laughs, again, and the fluttering in Nayeon’s chest returns with a vengeance. But Tzuyu is no longer tapping at her coffee cup, so Nayeon will gladly chalk it up as an overall win.

Nayeon clears her throat. “Well, I don’t mean to keep you or anything. I’m sure you have homework or something to do.”

“Right, I do. Thank you for the coffee.” Tzuyu dips her head. “Unnie,” she adds, because Nayeon had told her to drop the formalities earlier. 

“It was nice talking to you.” Nayeon smiles as she gets up from her seat. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime, since you’re always with the terrible trio.”

“Mina-unnie isn’t terrible,” Tzuyu says. “And Momo-unnie isn’t either, most of the time.”

“So it’s just Sana,” says Nayeon with a laugh. “She’ll be thrilled to hear that, I’m sure.”

Tzuyu shrugs. “She’s free to stop being terrible at any time.”

“She really is,” Nayeon grumbles, firing off a quick text demanding that Sana give her free takeout for a month as penance for this entire restaurant owner conspiracy. 

“Unnie,” Tzuyu says once more. Nayeon’s head immediately snaps up. Tzuyu looks soft again, the usual piercing glint in her eyes polished away to reveal the gentle, hopeful shine underneath. “If you want,” she pauses, “if you want, we could do this again, sometime?”

“Oh, again?” Nayeon blinks rapidly as she runs a hand through her hair, although it’s not even half as tangled as the jumbled mess her coherency has fallen into. “Again. Yeah, we could do this again, if you want to.”

“Okay,” says Tzuyu, tone light. Nayeon is in a daze as they exchange numbers. And even hours later, when she’s lounging on her corner of the couch -- studiously hiding her phone from Mina’s line of sight so the latter won’t notice Tzuyu’s Instagram pulled up on the screen -- she thinks of Tzuyu’s earnest smile, and how it’s a sliver away from making Nayeon want to open up her entire heart.

\- 

_Enjoy tonight, Tzu! Nayeon unnie has been freaking out all afternoon, so go easy on her please hehe_

_Have fun use protection!!_   
_Jk if unnie pulls smth on u ill send momo to fight her >:(_

_Let us know how the movie goes, tzuyu <3_   
_ Satang is right about the fighting, just don’t tell her or she will get a big head~_

Tzuyu feels herself smiling at the messages popping up on her screen. But she slips her phone back into her bag when she sees Nayeon briskly walking up to the doors of the movie theater.

“Hey,” Nayeon says with a grin, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No, I’m early,” says Tzuyu. “Are you sure you’re okay with seeing this one, unnie? There are other movies playing, too.”

“Of course I want to see it.” Nayeon waves Tzuyu’s residual worries away. Then she steps up to the counter and speaks to the attendant through the glass. Before Tzuyu knows it, Nayeon has swiped her card and received two tickets. She turns back to Tzuyu and holds one of the slips out. “Ready?” 

Tzuyu’s mind is turning slowly again, and she hates that her throat gets stuck. Not from Nayeon’s kind gesture -- which makes her heart compress in a different way -- but because an entire conversation had just happened in front of her, too fast to comprehend, and the pit that she feels her stomach spiraling into is deep and familiar. 

Nayeon pauses. “What? You’re making a face.” She trails off like she’s going to add something else, but ends up closing her mouth instead.

Tzuyu blinks. She carefully straightens her expression once more, feeling her cheeks heat up when Nayeon continues to stare. “You didn’t need to pay for me, unnie.”

“I’m not paying for you,” says Nayeon, nudging Tzuyu’s elbow to get her to walk further inside. “You’re buying the stupidly overpriced snacks. Now, come on.” 

The movie is the latest one out of a popular animation studio, and Tzuyu likes it enough: it’s cute and wholesome, even though it’s in English and the hangul subtitles flash by a little too fast. Nayeon is perfectly considerate, too -- a steady presence warming the space on Tzuyu’s left, helping to balance the bag of popcorn perched on the armrest between them. Tzuyu hears every time Nayeon reaches inside for a handful, the bag rustling and kernels crunching just underneath the film’s dialogue and moving soundtrack. She wonders if Nayeon is listening for the same things, because they don’t brush hands even once. 

The plot passes in a blur. It’s not particularly complicated, but the grandfather character with paper-white hair and endearingly creaking joints catches Tzuyu’s attention early on. He only appears once or twice in the beginning, but he’s there to wrap the protagonist in a long, full hug at the end. The scene fades to black, and Tzuyu forgets everything else.

She feels cold.

“Hey.” Nayeon gives the lightest touch on her shoulder, and she realizes that the lights are already back on, the credits rolled halfway through. 

Tzuyu clears her throat and picks up the empty popcorn bag. “Sorry, I zoned out. We can go.”

“That was a cute movie,” Nayeon says as they walk out of the theater. Autumn has fallen quickly, their breaths misting in front of them against the night air. 

“Yeah.” Tzuyu’s voice catches, and she knows that Nayeon hears. But the older girl doesn’t comment on it, just turns to smile at her and ask if she wants to go to a cafe or end the night here. Tzuyu watches the words as they form on Nayeon’s lips, the syllables falling foreign on her ears and crushed under the sluggish gears in her brain until she can come up with the proper translation.

“Hey.” Nayeon’s mouth turns, and Tzuyu watches through her now burning eyes as Nayeon’s forehead creases into a frown. “Tzuyu? What’s wrong?”

Tzuyu tries to clear her throat, but it only constricts further. “Nothing,” she still manages to choke out. 

Nayeon pauses. And through the haze of the tears now slipping past her lashes and the dizziness that comes from trying to hold the rest back, Tzuyu can see her thinking. Tzuyu wants it all to stop, because she hasn’t cried since she’s moved here, and tonight in front of Im Nayeon is really the worst time that her life could pick to suddenly make her feel like everything is crashing down around her.

“Hey,” Nayeon finally says, and her voice soothes the ringing in Tzuyu’s ears a little. “Do you want to sit down?” Her soft touch lands on Tzuyu’s shoulder again, and Tzuyu pushes out another shaky exhale.

The silence hangs cold and still. But then Tzuyu nods a few times, and lets Nayeon take her by the elbow.

“There’s a park a block away from here,” Nayeon murmurs, arm warming wherever it meets Tzuyu’s. “We can just sit there for a while. Or I can call you a cab to take you back to campus?”

“The park is fine,” Tzuyu whispers.

“Okay,” says Nayeon, and leads them there.

Nayeon waits until Tzuyu sits down on a bench, and then takes her own seat right next to her. Their elbows are still linked together, but Nayeon’s arm is loose enough that Tzuyu can shrug it off if she wants to. 

She doesn’t.

Nayeon, for her part, doesn’t ask about anything. She talks instead -- about how the trees are turning all kinds of colors but that she likes orange the best, about how it’s nice that the sky is clear enough tonight so that they can actually see a few stars. She butchers whatever astronomy Mina has apparently taught the both of them, making up constellations and spinning tales about the dark side of the moon, and teases a smile onto Tzuyu’s lips when she says that her mom told her once that the wind is how the Earth sneezes after catching a cold. 

It’s all meaningless and childish, and Nayeon knows that Tzuyu knows this. But it stops Tzuyu from thinking about what she’s left behind, an ocean away. And it helps lessen the ache in her fingers even as she thinks of the one person in the entire world who had the warmest hugs and the wisest eyes and the softest, calloused hands that she’ll never get to hold again, even if she reached past the stars trying to chase after them.

Tzuyu turns a little, because she wants to look at Nayeon with more than just the corner of her vision. And so she does: Nayeon with ears chilled bright pink as she spews sentences foggier than the breath that escapes her lips, but just as bright as the moonlight shimmering in her eyes.

Tzuyu looks at Nayeon, and the world shifts.

-

Nayeon shares a quiet ride with Tzuyu back to campus. The younger girl even lets her walk her home -- _it’s only fair that you know where I live too, unnie_.

It’s the most conversation Tzuyu had made after the movie. Nayeon is simultaneously turning the whole night over in her head while also trying not to think too much about it; she arrives at her own apartment before she even registers that she’s left Tzuyu’s doorstep in the first place.

“How was your date?” Mina asks as she enters and tosses her keys onto the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know,” says Nayeon without turning. “If your date cries, does that count as ‘good’?”

Mina carefully sets down the Switch game she had been playing. “Unnie. What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me!” Nayeon says immediately. Then she sighs and drops onto the couch. “I mean, I’m at least ninety percent sure that it wasn’t.”

Mina shifts closer and takes her hand, thumb rubbing over Nayeon’s. “What happened?” 

Nayeon shrugs. “I don’t know. She wanted to see the new movie from the studio that you like, so we did. And it wasn’t sad or anything, but when we came out of it, she started crying. So I took her to the park and sat her down. And I just talked about stupid things until she looked okay enough to go home.”

Mina hums. “And she didn’t say anything about it?”

“I didn’t want to pry.” Nayeon closes her eyes and slumps further into the sofa. “I really hope I didn’t fuck it up somehow.”

“I don’t think it was your fault, unnie,” Mina says as she checks her phone. She stares for a moment, and then turns back to Nayeon. “Sana-unnie just messaged me. She says that Tzuyu is okay, and that it wasn’t anything you did. So just try to get some sleep, okay? I’m sure she’ll text you tomorrow.”

Nayeon glances down at Mina’s screen, recognizing Sana’s name when it lights up with another text -- written in Japanese, of course. 

“Unnie?” Mina asks softly.

Nayeon sighs again and nods. “Okay.” She accepts the hug Mina coaxes her into, and then heads for her bedroom. She glances back once, but only sees Mina standing in the middle of their living room, busy typing a reply.

Nayeon’s own phone remains silent for the rest of the night, as well as the following morning. She almost spills her coffee all over her keyboard and barely escapes stapling her finger to a very important file. But then Tzuyu texts, asking to meet at the cafe after she’s finished for the day, and Nayeon doesn’t even care that her boss unloads an entire lunch hour’s worth of paperwork onto her not even a minute later.

Tzuyu already has a steaming drink waiting for her when she arrives, and Nayeon is surprised when she tastes the exact same order she’d gotten the first time they’d met here. Then Tzuyu clears her throat. “Unnie, I think I owe you an explanation.”

Nayeon pauses mid-sip. Tzuyu is tapping her own cup again, so Nayeon sets her drink down carefully. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with, Tzuyu. I just need to know if it was something I personally did, so I can make sure not to do it again.” She lets out a short chuckle. “I guess I don’t have the best track record with you, anyway.”

Tzuyu quickly shakes her head. “No, it isn’t you at all, unnie. You’re great, and I had a really good time. I was just having a bad day and feeling kind of homesick, I guess. And then the grandpa in the movie, he -- he just reminded me too much of my grandma.” 

“Oh?” Nayeon watches as Tzuyu looks down, abandoning the cup in favor of running one finger along a crack in the tabletop varnish. “You’re close with your grandmother?”

“Was,” Tzuyu says, voice low. Her eyes stay fixed on her finger moving back and forth. “She passed away last year. That’s why I took time off from school.”

“Oh,” Nayeon whispers.

“I was probably ready to go back after a semester,” Tzuyu continues. “But I couldn’t do it. She was -- she was everywhere, and it was too much. Because she used to come visit my dormitory, and clean for me and my roommates so we could focus on studying. And I would take her around on campus and in the city to all my favorite places. So now I’ll always remember it all whenever I go back, how she’d just hold my hand and listen to everything that I said like -- like, I don’t know. Like I was creating a universe.”

Tzuyu inhales, trembling. Nayeon carefully slides a hand across the table, palm up, and Tzuyu takes it.

“I’m not sure if I actually needed to move to an entirely new country to get away from her,” says Tzuyu after another moment. “I thought I did, so much so that my parents actually let me come here, to Korea. But I still miss home so, so much, and it’s so hard to live here sometimes. I -- I just want to go back. I want to go back so badly that I want to scream. But I also don’t want to, just as badly.” She looks up, eyes wide and liquid. “I don’t know which is worse.”

Nayeon squeezes her hand. “Both are the worst.” 

Tzuyu takes another breath, steadier this time. “Yeah. Yeah, both are the worst.”

“Hey,” Nayeon says. Tzuyu blinks at her, gaze still a little wet. “Thank you for telling me all of this. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not very good with this,” Tzuyu says. “It’s hard to say what I’m feeling when I don’t know all the words.”

“Words are overrated,” says Nayeon, because she can’t stand how Tzuyu hunches over the table like a tiny kid stranded in an enormous department store. 

“Maybe.” Tzuyu shrugs. “But they’re still really useful to know.”

Nayeon can only nod. “Yeah, they are.” And curls her other hand into a fist in her lap so she won’t be tempted to rush over to the other side and pull Tzuyu in as close as possible, to hold her tightly and whisper against her hair until the world is right again. 

Tzuyu looks down at their joined hands. “I can only talk with Chaeyoung, because she annoys me until I can explain enough for her to guess the rest. And I sometimes talk with Sana-unnie and Momo-unnie, just because they at least understand what it’s like to be this homesick.”

Nayeon hums. “They’re good people. Well, I don’t know Chaeyoung, but I’m sure that she’s good, too.”

“They all are good people,” Tzuyu agrees. She tugs at Nayeon’s hand a little. “And you are, too.”

Nayeon stares for a second, and then manages a laugh. “Thanks, but you don’t have to say that.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” says Tzuyu. Her eyes are dry now. “So thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Nayeon says quietly. 

Tzuyu waits. And then tugs at Nayeon's fingers again. “Unnie.”

Nayeon runs her thumb over Tzuyu’s knuckles. “Yeah?”

Tzuyu clears her throat. “Can we -- can we go on another date? I want to make up for the last one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Nayeon says. 

Tzuyu only stares back, hand remaining solidly in Nayeon’s. 

So Nayeon takes a breath, and lets the flutter in her chest seep into her heartbeat. “But -- but if you really want to. Then, yeah.” She smiles and gives Tzuyu’s hand another squeeze. “I would really like that.”

Tzuyu nods, her resolution pushing her mouth into a little pout that Nayeon tries not to stare at too much. “You can pick the place this time, unnie.”

Nayeon chuckles. “Okay, I’ll think of something.”

-

_Have fun roller skating, Tzu! Just a warning, Nayeon unnie isn’t very coordinated…_

_Try to hold hands at least ok??_   
_If unnie chickens out then ill make momo punch her <33_

_We are cheering for you tzuyu yah~_  
_But be careful because things with wheels can be scary D:_  
_In this case the thing is nayeon unnie she is very clumsy ^^_

Tzuyu thinks back to the wall of texts she’d received before meeting Nayeon earlier in the evening, and holds back a laugh when she feels more than hears the older girl whine into her hair. “We’re almost to the parking lot, unnie. Then we can sit and wait for a cab.” 

The roller skating rink is in the middle of a mall, and Nayeon was in the middle of the rink when she’d done a weird turn and fallen, dragging Tzuyu down with her because their arms were linked. Tzuyu had come out relatively unscathed, but Nayeon’s ankle hurt enough that they had to call it a night. Tzuyu offered to carry her on her back to save her the walk through the mall, and after testing her ankle and wincing, Nayeon accepted the offer.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” Tzuyu asks, looking up even though she knows she won’t be able to see Nayeon either way.

Nayeon’s chin digs a little into the top of Tzuyu’s head as she nods. “I probably just twisted it. I’ll ask Mina to take me to the hospital tomorrow if it starts to feel worse.”

Tzuyu hums. “Okay.”

“At least it didn’t end with either of us crying this time,” Nayeon says. “That’s a good record to set, right?” She fidgets a little when Tzuyu doesn’t reply. “Sorry, was that a bad joke? I really need to stop making bad jokes.”

“It was a good joke, unnie,” Tzuyu says, voice straining against the length of Nayeon’s arm. “You’re just choking me a little bit right now.”

“Oh, sorry!” The pressure lessens, and Tzuyu’s balance suddenly shifts as Nayeon leans back. “Is this better -- ow!”

Tzuyu regains her footing, but not before spinning suddenly to avoid crashing her shoulder into the pillar next to her. By the time she straightens again, she’s managed to escape collision -- but Nayeon’s knee is not so lucky.

“Unnie! Sorry, are you okay?” Tzuyu feels Nayeon shaking, but relaxes when she realizes that it’s from laughter. So she spins again -- more methodically -- and looks for a place to sit down.

There’s a bench next to the pillar, and Tzuyu crouches down so Nayeon can slide back onto it. Tzuyu takes a seat next to her, their hands brushing before Nayeon fits her fingers in between Tzuyu’s. “I’m okay,” Nayeon says belatedly. “You’re lucky that was my good leg, Chou Tzuyu. If you wanted to knock me unconscious, there are easier ways to do it.”

“You moved, unnie,” Tzuyu protests. “I was just trying to keep the both of us from falling _another_ time.” Nayeon only laughs, grinning because she’s being cheeky and Tzuyu has taken the bait, anyway. 

“I’m sorry for moving, then,” Nayeon says. “And for choking you, earlier. And for falling, I guess. Although maybe that last one was already written in the stars.”

“There aren’t any stars here,” says Tzuyu, glancing up at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights glare back at her.

“No, there aren’t any, Miss Probably-In-Taiwan,” Nayeon says, and Tzuyu hears the affection in her tone more clearly than any word that she’s ever listened to, Korean or otherwise. 

It’s become a lot more prominent recently, Tzuyu’s noticed. Like when Nayeon had shown up at the restaurant just as Tzuyu’s shift ended, rolling her eyes at Momo and Sana’s excessive cooing for thinking to bring some of Tzuyu’s favorite bread from Jeongyeon’s bakery. And then at the skate rental counter, when Nayeon had pulled Tzuyu closer under the guise of making the younger girl pay while she asked the clerk to repeat what he’d just said, claiming that the sound system was too loud to hear anything. And when she’d taken two pairs of long socks out of her bag and offered the dark blue striped ones to Tzuyu, who hadn’t thought about how the skate boots would chafe her ankles raw otherwise. 

Tzuyu’s heart squeezes at these thoughts; the blood rushes to her neck and cheeks, buzzes in her twitching fingers and the tips of her ears. She swallows. “Unnie?”

Nayeon turns to look at her, smiling in spite of a throbbing ankle and harsh mall lights and the cold breeze outside blowing orange leaves off of dormant branches. 

And then Nayeon realizes how close Tzuyu’s face is. Her eyes widen, melting into an echo of the girl who answered the door with not even a speck of powder on her cheeks, hair still wet and wrapped in a bright green towel. 

“Unnie,” Tzuyu says again, faint. 

“Hey,” says Nayeon. She remains still for a moment more, and then leans in. “Just say so, okay? If you want to stop.” 

Tzuyu doesn’t. And she won’t ever want to, she decides. Because she sinks into something familiar as she breathes in the tenderness of Nayeon’s lips against hers and the firm but gentle press of Nayeon’s hand cradling her cheek -- 

A warm welcome home. 

Tzuyu’s eyes flutter shut as her heart settles, and the world shifts back into place.

**Author's Note:**

> follow @xylomyloo on Twitter you won't regret it!


End file.
